


My Soul to Take

by cherryberry12



Series: Inktober 2020 [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Exorcisms, F/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryberry12/pseuds/cherryberry12
Summary: Itachi performs an exorcism and runs into a problem.(Inktober Days 8/20 - First Meeting and Proposal)
Relationships: Karin/Uchiha Itachi
Series: Inktober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958443
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	My Soul to Take

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! Sorry for the delay here! Ahh in short--I’m graduating next semester, looking for a job, quarantined because everyone in my family (except, somehow, for me) has COVID right now. So, there’s been a lot, and I haven’t had the time to sit down and finish this. I paired up two prompts with this because it got so long--my first fics were in the ~1k range and this one just... ran away from me a little bit!!! I technically skipped a day, but that's because that fic is getting WAY longer than initially intended, so i have to figure out if I wanna break it up and if so, how. 
> 
> That being said, I want to finish the next chapter of the Beauty fic first, and then start knocking out more of these inktober fics. And I haven’t forgotten Moving In/Moving On and Tea and Cakes, and Ices! The bright side of quarantine is that after I finish all my school work, I’ll have a lot more free time to write. I have a bunch of fun inktober things started, and I’m really looking forward to finishing some of them!

Dry leaves crunch under Itachi’s boots as he approaches the farmhouse. Several hundred rows of cornstalks line the road on either side of him, fading farther into the distance than he can see. 

The road has been long and quiet, but he isn’t in any particular hurry—he hasn’t seen any signs of Sasuke for several weeks now, which means that Sasuke’s injuries after their most recent skirmish were likely severe enough that he could not continue his pursuit. 

If that is the case, it means that there is enough distance between them that Itachi can continue at a leisurely pace, especially now that Sasuke has become accustomed to traveling with a small team of humans who will need to stop for rest and food. 

When he approaches the front porch, he hears the clatter of several locks before a woman in a calico dress and a knit shawl opens the door. She’s as tall and thin as the cornstalks around her and decidedly well put together, though Itachi notices several chunks of dark hair are coming loose from the long braid she’s thrown over her shoulder. 

The farmer, he assumes.

She’s got deep circles under her eyes, which are common for folk who live so far out in the country and rise with the sun, but her face softens when he steps into a patch of light and she’s able to get a better look at him.

Her eyes are immediately drawn to his attire. 

His collar, to be specific. “A priest! And so soon!”

He stops just in front of the porch steps and gives her a quick bow of his head. “I came as soon as I heard what happened, ma’am. Your situation sounded serious.”

The farmer sighs and pushes a few strands of hair out of her eyes, any lingering harshness quickly dissipating as she begins to speak. “We’ve just—there’s nothing we’ve been able to do. The local priest has had us keep the girl in our daughter’s room for several days now. There’s just no reasoning with her or—or whatever it is that’s possessed her. She… we had to bring her all the way out here in the first place because she wouldn’t stop screaming, and the priest didn’t think it was a good idea to let her stay in town.” 

“I see.” The report he heard had certainly sounded severe, but alleged possessions were far too common and true possessions far too rare. “You’re certain it’s a demon, then.”

The farmer nods vigorously. “Oh, it has to be. Our priest had wondered the same thing—if she might be a witch, perhaps, but this was nothing like that and I told him so—she would shake and scream and cry for help, like she had no control over herself. The poor thing is just—there’s nothing we’ve been able to do for her. She was the one who begged us to call a more experienced priest, you know.”

“That’s all certainly unusual.” But, at the same time, it does not quite pass into the realm of _unnatural_. “Have there been any other supernatural events? Sightings of the demon, disappearances, violent occurrences?” 

The farmer hesitates. After taking a moment to think it over, she starts, “Well, it’s been awfully windy lately. The whole house seems like it’s… like it’s howling at night.” She pulls her shawl tighter around herself. “There are things you just can’t explain. She—when Father Kabuto arrived in the village, she would just say such terrible things about him. Calling him—well, I don’t want to repeat any of it, but some of the things she said were just terrible!” 

“And you’re sure that it is a demon and not something else? Illness, maybe? Fatigue?” 

“Well, of course it’s a demon. What kind of illness makes a girl act out so suddenly?” The farmer places her hands on her hips. “Are you trying to say something, Father? Cause I’ve already fought this fight with our priest, and I told him that as sure as I’m alive, I know that girl is possessed. No right-minded girl would behave like this if there weren’t a reason.”

Itachi hasn’t seen any evidence that they are working with a right-minded girl, but he keeps that thought to himself. “I only want information, ma’am. You know more about this situation than I do right now.”

The farmer scowls. “Well, I might not have the kind of spiritual training you menfolk do, Father, but I know something about that girl isn’t right.” She looks him over again, this time with a far more skeptical eye. “You’re awfully young looking, Father. Was Father Asuma not available? Or someone else with a little more experience?” 

“I doubt any local priests—” Itachi pauses, then decides to change tactics. “I have performed my fair share of exorcisms, ma’am, but perhaps I ought to have introduced myself first. I am Father Itachi.” 

He usually avoids using his real name in his ecclesiastical work, but Sasuke is lagging far enough behind that a little extra recklessness may be in order.

In a further show of good faith, Itachi shifts his bag to the other shoulder and holds out his hand for the farmer to shake.

She doesn’t budge. 

He continues anyway. “I was not sent by the diocese. I happened to be heading this way already and heard men talking about your situation, and so I thought I might lend a hand and save someone else the trouble. I have no parish of my own, so I stop where I may be needed.”

The farmer shifts. “Well, that would explain your accent.” She finally sighs and takes a step down, giving his hand a light shake. “It was, ah, very kind of you to come out all this way, in any event.”

“I promise I will do just as well as the priest you are used to,” he assures her. “In spite of how young I may look.”

“Oh!” she gasps. “Father, your hands are so cold! You must think I have the worst manners—it’s much warmer inside—you must have been on the road all day to have gotten here in time!” 

“Ah—of course.” Itachi releases her hands and the farmer turns to go inside. 

Itachi remains by the stairs; the farmer obviously expects him to follow, but he has not been formally invited in. He hesitates for a moment then kneels to remove his boots. He’s been on the road for quite some time now, and they’re well-dusted with dirt from the road.

He pauses with his hands over his buckles. “Well—actually. Ma’am, you don’t mind me coming into your house with my boots on, do you?” he asks. 

It is always polite to ask first, but - more importantly - the farmer will not think he is odd for asking. Merely polite, as a priest ought to be. 

The farmer waves him in further over her shoulder without bothering to look back. “No, no. Please, Father, come in. You must be wanting a hot meal and some rest. I’ll fix you a plate.”

“I’m well accustomed to it.” With her permission, Itachi stands and enters the home. “And really, you don’t have to—” 

The farmer is already at work in the kitchen when he enters, a chipped but nicely painted ceramic plate beside her on the counter. She lifts the lid off of an enormous metal pot on the stove, releasing a large cloud of steam.

It’s a hearty meal, full of vegetables and well-cooked meat. The farmer may very well be an excellent cook, but the smell of it alone is enough to make his stomach churn.

“Please—you don’t have to do that,” he tells her. “Really, I won’t feel comfortable eating until I’ve at least had the opportunity to investigate the matter a little more.” 

As if on cue, there’s a series of loud crashing noises from deeper inside the home. The hanging lights in the kitchen begin to sway, and someone down the hall groans, “How the hell ain’t she tired yet!” 

The farmer sighs. “Well, speak of the devil.” 

He hums thoughtfully. “Is there anything more you could tell me about the demon or the woman it’s possessed?” 

The farmer hesitates. “Well… If you don’t mind me saying it, Father, there’s—there’s always been something uncanny about that girl. Not anything evil, just… strange,” she starts. “She’s never been too close with anyone in town, got no friends or family left. She’s not from this area originally… She and her mother came to town a while ago, but she’s always had an unusual air about her. She stares a lot, oftentimes at things that aren’t even there.” 

“I see.” 

And truly, as unfortunate as it is, he does see it—Itachi has performed enough exorcisms to know that demons were rarely, if ever, as interested in the souls of young, unmarried women as lay people seemed to be. 

“You sure do see a lot,” the farmer comments. After a moment, she sighs. “The boys can tell you more, though. They’ve actually dealt with her.” 

The farmer wipes her hands on her apron and motions for him to follow. “They’ve been watching over her this whole time.” She leads him in through the kitchen and down a short hall to where three men are sitting outside of a closed door. 

“My husband,” the farmer says, gesturing to the oldest looking man. He nods briefly at Itachi, acknowledging him in a way that’s polite but not overly friendly. The homeowner waves to the two others. “My sister’s son and his friend. They all helped bring the girl back here. Our daughter married last spring so—well, we were one of the only families in town with extra room, and it’s better to have her away from everyone else, you know.” 

“Of course. It’s, ah, a pleasure to meet you all, then,” he says, because it seems like something a priest ought to say. “I can only assume that you’ve all come into contact with the demon yourselves.”

It’s quiet for a moment. The men wait without responding, glancing between themselves.

“We have,” the nephew finally says. He’s got a nasty scratch on his neck that’s only been partially covered up by a thin bandage. “Damn girl clawed me in the face tryna get her right.”

“She got a good swipe in when we went and got her from down where the apothecary is,” the friend chimes in. “Gave ‘im the fight of his life!” he adds, even as his friend scowls back at him.

“Apothecary?” 

The nephew shrugs one shoulder. He’s shifty and has so far refused to look Itachi directly in the eye, though it’s difficult to tell whether it is because of guilt, embarrassment, or because Itachi’s presence tends to make others a little uneasy. “She does odd jobs for the apothecary. Knows a whole lot about plants and the like.”

“Priest dun like her none either,” his friend offers. “Prolly ‘cause she curses like a man.”

Itachi withholds a sigh. “That’s another matter I’d like to hear about. What has the local priest been able to do? I can only assume he’s attempted to exorcise the demon himself.” 

The husband’s lips curl up into a rather unfortunate looking smirk. It’s the first time he’s smiled so far, and it’s not a particularly warm expression. “Well, the little miss went and called the priest a demon himself, so there’s not a whole lotta love lost between ‘em.” 

The farmer speaks up again. “He did attempt to exorcise her, but it didn’t help. If anything, it only made it worse—the demon possessing her became angry with him.” Her lips press into a thin line. “Father Kabuto has done a lot in the short time he’s been serving the village, but I think this might be beyond even his powers.” 

“Well, it’s possible.” Itachi pats the side of his bag. “I am, however, prepared for the worst,” he says, even though most of his supplies are little more than props—a Bible, unlabeled bottles of water, and jars of salt.

In his own hands, they’re little more than useless, but owning them is enough to buoy his credibility significantly.

“You gotta rosary in there?” the nephew’s friend asks, leaning over slightly from his seat. “We tried one of ‘em on ‘er and it didn’t do any good. She just kept thrashin’ about, wavin’ ‘er arms all crazy-like.”

Itachi ignores his question. “I intend to go in alone at first,” he tells the men. “If there are complications, I might ask for some assistance. However,” and he nods to the men, “you may hear things that disturb or discomfort you. I ask that you remain here unless I personally call for your help. Otherwise you risk interfering at a key moment and disrupting my process.”

The nephew’s friend nods vigorously. “She—well, I don’t mean any disrespect, Father, but she put up a hell of a - I mean, ah, she put up quite the fight, Father. You mind yourself gettin’ up close and personal with ‘er, now.” 

“Thank you for your concern. For now, I ask that you avoid standing too close to the bedroom, and please leave some space—if I do cast the demon out of this girl, there’s a chance it may attempt to possess one of you before I can destroy it.”

The nephew and his friend blanch, and they very dutifully scoot their seats back away from the door. After a second, the nephew mutters something indistinct under his breath and stalks off toward the kitchen.

Itachi does his best to hide his smile as he opens the bedroom door. 

He did not expect much, but the woman is still in a worse state than he imagined. She visibly flinches when he enters the room, though her range of motion is limited. She attempts to scream, but her screams are muffled by a gag. 

The men have not been gentle with her—the sleeves of her dress are torn and stained with blood and sweat, and her bare forearms are dotted with bruises in the shape of fingertips. Her ankles and wrists are bound to the corners of the bed, her arms bent backward at an uncomfortable angle.

She’s a rather slight woman, but she’s still able to shake the bed with the force of her thrashing. Unusual, perhaps, but again—it is nothing unnatural. 

Itachi sighs and shuts the door behind him. 

He won’t drag this out too long. The farmer and her family are expecting an exorcism and, even if it is not precisely what is needed, he will save time and effort by going through the motions anyway. 

It would not be the first time he’s done so and, so long as superstitious townsfolk and young vulnerable women continue to coexist, it will likely not be the last.

If the girl is particularly pious, he’ll leave her with a quick, mumbled blessing, but, in his experience, many women find themselves significantly more atheistic after these encounters. 

Once he is done, he will go and have a very, very long talk with this town’s Father Kabuto about the state of his soul.

Itachi sets his bag down on the floor and approaches the woman, taking a mental catalogue of the injuries he can see and the ones that are likely hidden from him. She’s clearly suffered a half dozen or so superficial scrapes and bruises, but nothing seems to be broken or bleeding. 

Fortunately, that makes matters much easier for them both.

The woman tries to scream again when he approaches her. It’s a pitiful sound, and it does nothing to quell the absolute frustration he’s beginning to feel towards the town’s priest, who almost certainly should have realized that the woman was harmless, if perhaps the slightest bit eccentric. 

“You are safe now,” he tells her calmly, placing one hand over her forehead. She’s feverish, and the pulse in her neck is pounding. It’s a strong pulse, lively for how small she is, and for a moment he finds himself distracted by it. 

He shakes off the thought. 

Loudly, he announces, “I have come to save your soul, child.”

The woman whimpers.

Fear isn’t entirely new to him, especially not in these situations. By the time he has arrived, most women have already faced abuses at the hands of other men, many of whom were also men of faith. 

Still, something in her reaction gives her a moment of pause. There’s something analytic in the way she watches him. She’s scared, yes, but there’s a calculated air to her as well, something that seems out of sorts from a woman who supposedly called her own priest a demon. 

It’s her eyes, he thinks. They’re a bright, pupilless red to match her wild hair, and they focus on him in a particular way that indicates the woman might just be, as the farmer had said, a little _uncanny_. 

“I see.” Unfortunately, this complicates the matter significantly. He touches the gag lightly. “I would remove this, but I am not entirely confident in the things you might say. It might cause problems for us both, you see.”

The woman’s breath hitches. 

He sees no use in lying to her. “You know what I am. And I know that you know, and so the two of us will need to come to some sort of agreement before I leave this room.” Already, though, he’s wondering how he might manage to do that when there’s no telling what she might say if given the freedom to speak. 

There is already one dedicated hunter pursuing him. While Itachi doesn’t mind leaving the occasional clue for his intrepid little brother, he isn’t particularly interested in attracting too much attention. 

He has no particular interest in killing innocent humans either, but the woman does not know that. 

“For now, the people out there are expecting me to exorcise a demon out of you, if you would be so kind as to follow through with it.” He gestures toward the door. “The family out there will be wanting a show, and if they get it, I imagine they’ll be more inclined to let you go.”

He waits for the woman to give him some indication that she has heard him and understood, but she only stares up at him with wide eyes, her chest rapidly rising and falling.

Well, he can’t particularly blame her for that. He starts simply—“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…” The words have an acidic and bitter sort of taste, the kind of citrus-sting on his tongue that he remembers from lemons and grapefruits. 

In the right hands they’re powerful words, but there’s hardly any harm in him reciting them like this. 

He expects the women to begin thrashing again, but she’s frozen stiff. He comes to the conclusion of his prayer and there’s no reaction from her at all, no whimpers or struggles or the slightest of twitches.

A rather uninteresting exorcism, for those who may be listening. 

He sighs. “Fine then; I’ll do it.” 

Itachi loosens his collar and rolls up his sleeves to permit himself a wider range of movement. 

“In the name of the Lord!” he calls. To punctuate the command, he grabs the top of one of the bedposts and wrenches it from its mooring. He is careful not to hurt the woman tied down to it, but there is still something freeing - something novel - in being able to conduct this exorcism without having to worry about revealing his true nature. 

When the post comes free, he heaves it over his shoulder against the wall where it lands with a loud crack, leaving an ugly scar against the wood.

He hears a concerned cry from outside the room—“Father! Do you need our help, Father?”

“I am fine,” he answers, giving the woman a pointed looked. “Still, I would caution you to retreat as far as you can from this room.” There are no glass fixtures in the room, but there is a light blue curtain that he does not hesitate to tear in two as if it were the Temple veil itself. “The demon is much more powerful than I expected.” When their retreating footsteps fade, he returns to the woman. 

False exorcisms are not a course of action he’s had to entertain often, but this one is far from his first. The ‘possessed,’ in his experience, often find great relief in this part of the exorcism. While he’s rarely this destructive in cases that do not warrant it, his partners are often enthusiastic - if the slightest bit hysteric - participants. 

Sometimes it is difficult to tell what motivates them more—their desire to be free and return to their homes, or their desire to take small but satisfying acts of vengeance against those who have wronged them.

The woman with the red eyes is decidedly less enthusiastic than he is used to. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

He’d like, at the very least, to sound credible. “You and I may speak in silence now, with no fear of being overheard.” He sits down on the bed, but the woman immediately edges away from him, putting as much space between them as her bindings will allow.

“I would like to talk with you,” he tells her, “but I cannot do that unless you are careful in what you say. I am willing to ungag you and untie you, but I will need your assurance that you will withhold judgment until I have said my piece. Those people,” and he inclines his head toward the bedroom door, “already do not trust you. They will not believe your accusations. They would be unnerved, but ultimately will not care, if you do not survive an intense exorcism. I could have killed you immediately but would like us both to leave here alive and unharmed. Do you understand that?”

The woman narrows her eyes at him, but she slowly nods her head. 

It is not an ideal arrangement, but it will have to do. 

Itachi starts with her ankles. He works quickly at the first one, easily undoing the knot, unwinding it, and moving to the next knot as soon as the woman instinctively flexes her foot to restore blood flow.

“I am trusting that you will use your good sense here,” he tells the woman, placing his hand on her tied wrist. “And I am trusting that you will be patient and quiet while we work out an arrangement that will benefit us both.”

The woman nods eagerly in agreement, but the second he tugs the knot free, her hand flies to the gag in her mouth.

Luckily, he is much quicker than she is. 

He catches her arm almost immediately, and he gives her a stern look. “Stop that.” She continues to struggle, until he’s forced to tighten his grip. “I am not unwilling to help you, but I cannot do so if you are going to be ornery.”

The woman whimpers, and her eyes squeeze shut as if she were in pain. 

“I am not a fool,” he tells her, pressing his thumb into the meat of her arm to prove his point. “That ruse will not work on me.”

The woman quickly substitutes her pained grimace for a glare. Her hand goes lax as well, resting back in the mess of her hair.

She might have been foolish enough to be caught where she is, but she’s obviously intelligent to know when one of her tricks is not working. 

“Now, I will attempt to reason with you once more. As you have likely been able to—” 

Before he can finish his sentence, the woman flicks her wrist and stabs him with a hair pin.

It lasts only a moment, but his instinctive flinch is enough for her to break his hold and once again attempt to remove her gag.

This time, however, she succeeds. 

“Help! Help me! He’s—” she yells, but before she can say more he catches her arm and wrestles her over the side of the bed, pinning her free arm to her torso with one hand while he covers her mouth with the other. 

She struggles against him, but her strength is no match for his, especially when her right hand is still tied to the opposite bedpost. 

“I am not moving until you relent,” Itachi tells her. 

He breathes in and is faced with the unfortunate realization that his face is pressed up against her neck, and that the wild beat of her pulse is inches away from his lips.

She smells like sweat and fear but also—he takes in another deep breath, and the woman screams against his hand. 

This time, he can’t entirely blame her for it. 

“Just… hold still.” The scent of her blood is dizzying, but he breathes slowly and hopes that his inaction will assuage the woman’s fears. 

Even if it does take several long, agonizing moments for the realization to hit her.

Thankfully, there’s only so long a woman can struggle when she’s been both starved and deprived of water for several days. The woman eventually slumps against him, exhausted and, thankfully, incredibly human. 

With a sigh, Itachi finally releases his grip on her and pulls away slowly, ready to intercept her again should she try any more tricks.

Thankfully, she does not. 

“Get the hell away from me,” she croaks out. “Or I’ll stab you again.”

“You are in no position to be making threats,” he informs her. Just to be sure, however, he finally removes her pin from his hand. Though the wound is surprisingly deep, it closes almost immediately.

Itachi twists the woman’s pin several times around, turning it into a harmless coil.

The woman gives her mangled pin an uncomfortable glance. “Are you gonna do that to me next?” she asks.

“Not unless I have to.” 

Itachi slides off the side of the bed and removes a bottle of water from his bag—they’re mostly for show and, since he has no personal need for water, they can be easily repurposed. 

The woman makes quick work of her other tied hand, but her hands still tremble when he tosses the bottle to her. She pops the top off and drinks greedily, empting the container in a matter of seconds.

He can’t help but notice that she doesn’t thank him for that.

Itachi uses the moment to dig through the rest of his bag and removes a roll of gauze bandages and a small container of ointment to soothe her rope burns. Again, they are items he would not personally use that have still proven useful when he travels among humans. 

Especially ones who bleed. 

He sits next to the woman on the bed. “I can at least tend to your wounds.” 

The woman gives him a skeptical look but dutifully holds out one arm. Her skin is raw and red, but she isn’t bleeding.

This is fortunate for them both. 

She glares at him anyway. “You gonna have a snack before you leave?” 

“No.” He screws open the ointment he brought and applies a liberal amount to her wrist. The woman winces, but that it is the best sign that the antiseptic is working. “You have been made a victim once.”

The woman flushes and she turns away, muttering something indistinct under her breath. 

“I fed shortly before heading this way,” he explains. After a moment, he adds, “but I may make an exception for a particularly guilty priest.”

That immediately gets the woman’s attention. “Father Kabu—” 

“Yes.” He carefully wraps her wrist several times and ties a knot to keep the bandages secure. “Apparently there’s more to him than meets the eye. What manner of creature is he?” 

The woman shakes her head. “Don’t know. A scaly one. He’s got slit eyes, like a garter snake or something.” 

A shapeshifter, then, or something near to one. He nods. “I should have no trouble handling him.” 

“And me?”

“You won’t have to worry about him again,” he promises. “Your ability likely made you his target. He feared exposure enough that he attempted to get rid of you altogether.”

She scoffs. “And about five minutes ago you were ready to snap my neck.”

“Privacy is a convenience just like any other. If you are willing to keep this matter between us, you may do whatever you want when I have finished here.”

“Whatever I want, huh?” The transition is a strange one—the woman leans back on her hand and gives him an appreciative look. She seems entirely at ease, even in the bed where she’d been held captive for several days. “You mean that?”

He sighs. “Unless you make me regret it.”

“You’ve got some impressive self control,” the woman remarks. As if to test it, she waves her arm in front of his face. She snickers when he doesn’t budge. “Not so much as a flinch. So what’s your gig, then? Not too many vampires—” 

“Now—” He holds a finger up to shush her. “I wouldn’t say that word too loud if I were you.” 

When she rolls her eyes, he continues. “As far as you are concerned, I am a priest. I make my living by expelling demons and other unwanted creatures where they are not wanted.” 

The woman raises a skeptical eyebrow. “And what do you get out of it?”

“It’s a way to pass the time.” He shrugs, hoping to pass the movement off as indifferent. There is a fate waiting for him, but there’s no use in explaining that to a woman he’s only just met.

Still, it’s been a while since he could be frank about who he is and what he does. “I travel between villages and find my meals on the road.”

“So you _do_ drink from humans.”

He doesn’t deny it. “Never in excess. I try to avoid that sort of attention.” He gestures to her. “As you can see, my self-restraint is more than is typical of my kind.”

The woman doesn’t have a response to that. She stares down at her wrapped wrists, turning them over as if inspecting them. 

“You didn’t know what I was until you came in here,” she eventually remarks. She raises one hand and adjusts her glasses—one of the lens has a hairline crack in it, and he can’t stop himself from thinking that, in a village like this one, it will not be easy to replace. “And you didn’t know about Father Kabuto, either.”

“I did not, but now I do.” An uneasy silence falls between them until he continues, “I have more bandages if your ankles—”

She interrupts him. “I’m coming with you when you leave.” She looks up at him, her red eyes as wild and bright as her hair. “I—it isn’t just my sight. I can feel things, too. I know exactly where Father Kabuto is right now, but from—from the way he feels. It isn’t just him, either. I knew you were coming, and I know when other creatures pass through the village. It’s different from the way a human feels.”

An interesting ability, but it isn’t worth the trouble. “I don’t exactly need a partner.” 

“Well, I wasn’t offering. I was telling you.” She grins, quickly becoming enamored with her split-second decision. “What’s the issue? If you can be a priest, I’m sure I can be a nun.”

Itachi does not entirely agree, but he refrains from telling her so. 

He shakes his head. “I have no particular need for your company, I’m afraid.”

The woman arches an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you? You’ve got a whole process worked out here. Bet this isn’t the first time you came for a demon and left empty-handed.”

“I only go where my presence is needed.”

“You sound like you’re bored to hell, Father.”

He lets out a hot sigh. “I have no need for a companion who cannot protect herself.”

“See, that’s where you come in.” He gives her a flat look, and she puffs her cheeks out. “Oh, come on! There’s a reason I ended up tied to a bed and not burned at the stake, you know.” She inclines her head toward the mangled end of the bed. “And I didn’t need super strength to manage it.” 

“If it had been any other of my kind here, you would be dead several times over,” he points out.

“So? Go ahead and add lucky to the list.”

“You—”

She waves him off before he can retort. “Stop worrying so much about the details, okay? We can figure out all the rest later on the road. I’ll go have a nice bath and pack my stuff and—well, we can be on the road before sunrise, how’s that sound?” 

She’s excited now, and it only makes it harder for him to look away from her—the blood in her veins is roaring, and her cheeks dark and red with it. 

“You okay?” The woman shifts onto her knees and reaches out one hand to cup his cheek. His mouth waters, the tips of his fangs pricking his lower lip.

“If you could just—” He stands and straightens his collar, begins fixing his sleeves. “I’m going to leave now. I’m sure you can see yourself home.”

The woman pouts. “You’re a lonely guy, Father; I can tell,” she says. “You probably haven’t had someone to keep you company in a while, huh?”

In almost as many years as she’s been alive, but it’s long enough that he’s grown accustomed to it. 

“You will be making an enormous mistake if you do not stay here,” he warns her. “There are others of my kind who are dedicated to my demise.”

“And I’ll always know where they are,” the woman promises, unperturbed. “I’ll find you the best monsters, and all you have to do is take care of me.”

Far too late, Itachi recalls that he is far from the first person this woman has attempted to manipulate. 

He sighs. “You’ve got quite the silver tongue.”

The woman grins. “Didn’t you say I was safe now, Father? I think you might just be right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, I really appreciate any comments or kudos! 
> 
> Also, I’m trying to be a little more organized with my writing, so I put this together: https://trello.com/b/cZnDLJn3/fics-wc
> 
> Hopefully that link works! **edit** The link did not work--but now it does! 
> 
> It’s a chart with all the docs I am working on and their word counts. It’s hard to say how close any of them are to being finished, but at least you can see what’s being worked on and which fics are getting chonky! I haven't added all of my WIPs there yet, but I'm adding them as I work. Some - like inktober fics - are written in a single doc, though they're made up of multiple other fics.


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